Third Grade Secret Agent
by 1927
Summary: JONAS. He took a final look around the now-empty classroom before whispering into his palm, “This is Agent 007, performing his most dangerous mission yet. Commence Operation: Peach Pit.” Tag to ‘Band's Best Friend’, Joe/Stella. //one-shot//


**a/n: **So, here it is (drumroll, please) – my first ever JONAS fic! x) I'm a little slow to jump on the bandwagon, but I saw the 5th episode (Band's Best Friend) today on youtube and the opportunity to write this one-shot was too hard to resist. I'm warning you – it's a strange story. But I had a lot of fun with this it, and once I started I couldn't stop! Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! ;) Oh and also, sorry my humor sucks. Haha, you'll see. Thanks to _LaPaige_ for help with the title!

--

Joe hopped eagerly from one foot to another, squirming slightly as his mother pulled him in for a peck on the cheek.

"Moooom," he whined, "I'm not a _baby_ anymore!"

"Right," she said, rather soberly, "you're absolutely right. I guess I just have to face the fact that yet another one of my sons is growing up—" Joe beamed at this, puffing out his chest in pride before she continued, "—but you'll always be my baby to me, Joseph."

Joe bit his lip and took a hesitant look around to make sure no one was watching before wrapping his arms around his mother in a somewhat huffy hug. After all, he _wasn't_ a baby—and that was clearly evidenced by his brand new Superman lunchbox. If that didn't say 'grown-up' then he didn't know _what_ did.

"Don't worry mom," he said reassuringly, realizing that since he was a big boy now he should probably take to comforting his mother, who was probably suffering a great loss from realizing that she wouldn't have to take care of Joe anymore. "I'll still let you make my bed and do my laundry," he said brightly, "and don't forget, you've still got Nick—he's a _real_ baby, he's only in kindergarten."

Mrs. Lucas chuckled and ruffled her son's hair, reminding him that it had only been three years ago when he too was in kindergarten. This seemed to have the opposite effect as Joe's eyes widened at the prospect of this almost impossible span of time.

"Three whole _years_?! That's three birthdays and three Christmases and three Thanksgivings and three Easters and a whole lot of days and even more hours and probably a million bajillion minutes and—"

"Okay Joe," his mom laughed affectionately, "I get it, it's a long time. But it's also been a long time since we first arrived at school, so you should get going! Don't want to be late for your first day of third grade, do you?"

"Oh," Joe said, still looking rather shaken by the thought of three years. "I forgot," he muttered sheepishly, his thoughts of being a 'big boy' forgotten as he got one last hug from his mother before running across the street, his oversized backpack bouncing happily on his shoulders.

"Good luck," his mom called, waving as he dashed into the school building, "and try not to get into trouble this year!"

--

Joe dove into his classroom (very Superman-like, if he did say so himself) just in time, stuffing his jacket in the first cubby he saw and glancing around the room. He saw the familiar head of curly blond hair at the front of the class (typical—after all, Stella was a teacher's pet, even if she wouldn't admit it) and made his way over.

"Hey Stella," he said, "can you belie—"

Joe slid casually into the seat beside Stella, only to be interrupted by a ridiculously high-pitched squeal from underneath him.

"Did I have beans for breakfast or something? What the heck was—"

"Um, excuse me," the high-pitched squeal interrupted once more, "I don't mean to be rude, but could you please get _off_ me?"

Joe blinked as he slowly turned, coming face-to-face with a tiny Asian girl with black braided pigtails and a rather haughty look on her face.

"OH!" Joe jumped out of the seat, blushing. "I-I'm sorry, I guess I didn't see you there." He frowned to himself as he stepped away from the desk, relocating to the seat behind Stella (this time making sure it wasn't occupied first). He didn't understand—Stella _always_ saved him a seat on the first day of school! And what was this other hairdo-stealing girl in _his_ seat? Last time he'd checked, that hairdo belonged to Pippi Longstocking, not her.

He stared at the blackboard in a stunned silence as their new teacher explained the classroom rules in an overly peppy, condescending tone. He furrowed his brow together thoughtfully and waited she had turned around before he reached out to tap Stella on the shoulder.

"Pssst_,_" he hissed, "Stella!"

Stella stiffened before she turned around halfway in her seat, giving Joe a stern look. "What do you want, Joe? We're supposed to be listening to the rules!"

Joe frowned. "Why didn't you save me a seat?"

"What do you mean?" Stella asked innocently, "You're sitting, aren't you?"

"Yeah," he muttered, "but I always sit _next_ to you. How am I supposed to copy the spelling test answers from you if I'm sitting _behind_ you?"

"Well, I wanted to save a seat for Macy this year," she said matter-of-factly, "and besides, you shouldn't copy. But it's not like I can stop you—you can still see the answers from behind me, you know."

Joe made a face, stung by Stella's first comment. "Well—well," he whispered sullenly, trying to think of something witty to say, "well, it's not like I can see the answers with…with all of your big _hair_ in the way!"

Stella's eyes grew as wide as saucers, her mouth rounding into a perfect 'O' as she gasped audibly. "_Joseph Adam Lucas!_" she snapped, sounding a little too similar to Joe's mom for his comfort. Still, it had gotten the reaction he had wanted—there was no denying that she was paying attention to him now.

"My hair is not _big_!" she shrieked, her face turning a pleasant shade of pink. "You take that back or I'll-I'll…"

"Is there a problem over here?" their teacher called, managing to somehow maintain that overly peppy tone even when ready to scold them. Stella's head shot around to face front as she shook her head obediently, looking absolutely shocked to be singled out on the first day of school for potential bad behavior.

"No ma'am," Joe grumbled, his face twisting into a grimace. Why did he get the feeling that third grade wasn't going to be nearly as fun as second grade?

--

"Hey Stella," Joe called as the bell rang to end recess and the kids filed inside the classroom, "did I show you my Superman lunchbox yet?"

Stella turned around for half a second to shoot him a death glare before looping arms with Macy and heading towards their seats. Joe sighed as he jogged to catch up to them, pulling his lunchbox out from his cubby as he passed it.

"Oh come on, Stella!" he tried again, "It's _really_ cool. It even lights up!" He sprinted ahead of them and swung the lunchbox in Stella's face with a flourish, giving her his most persuasive grin. After all, a girl who only last week had practically forced him into a headlock in order to explain every single detail about her new Penelope Peach Pit Purse should at least _pretend_ to show interest in a light-up Superman lunchbox!

"Show somebody else, _Joseph_," Stella said coolly, sticking her nose up in the air, "_We_ aren't interested." And with that, the two of them had plunked into their seats in unison, already looking up dutifully at their teacher.

"_We aren't interested!_" Joe mocked in a squeaky voice, careful to keep his voice quiet so Stella wouldn't hear. He made a face in the direction of her back, wrinkling his nose contemptuously. Stupid Stella, stupid Macy. They didn't deserve to see his Superman lunchbox anyway!

He doodled superheroes in his notebook and told himself they weren't worth it for a whole five minutes before he couldn't help himself any longer and he reached out to prod Stella with his pencil. She didn't flinch, instead, she stayed perfectly still and her own pencil raced rapidly across her sheet of paper.

Joe hesitated for another few seconds before prodding her once more, a little harder than before and with an additional "Pssst, Stella!" This time, she stiffened in her seat, scooting forward a few inches. Joe smiled triumphantly as he reached forward even further, not hesitating this time as he poked her three times consecutively, changing his whisper to a singsong of "Steeeeella!"

Unexpectedly, Stella's blond head of hair (which was, in Joe's opinion, undeniably large) spun around to reveal her bright red, fuming face.

"WOULD – YOU – CUT – THAT – OUT!"

Each syllable rang sharply through the air, slicing through whatever might have been left of Joe's confidence. She gave him one last spiteful look before turning around once more to face front, smiling pleasantly at the teacher as if nothing had ever happened.

A chorus of giggles went up in the room and Joe sunk slowly down into his seat, crossing his arms embarrassedly as his face and ears blushed a brilliant shade of red.

Now he was determined. How dare she yell at him in front of the whole class? Yes, he would get Stella Malone back if it was the last thing he did (which, when you were dealing with Stella Malone, it very well could be).

--

"Oh, but whose favorite color _isn't_ pink?" Stella was asking a bewildered Macy brightly. Joe laughed from inside the coat closet, actually feeling sorry for Macy. The girl was hanging on to Stella's every word, and had taken to following her around like a puppy dog. He waited for Stella to grin and lead the way to the cafeteria for lunch before he stepped cautiously out of the coat closet.

Now this was a _real_ adventure, he thought to himself as he pressed his back to the wall, brandishing an imaginary gun in front of him. He was just like James Bond and Indiana Jones, and he had his own mission to accomplish! He was the good guy, obviously, and the bad guy was none other than the infamous bighead, also known as _Stella Malone_. Or more specifically (because Joe didn't really have the guts to attempt a mission against Stella herself) Stella's new Penelope Peach Pit Purse.

He took a final look around the now-empty classroom before whispering into his palm, "This is Agent 007, performing his most dangerous mission yet, roger that. The course is clear, I repeat, all clear! Commence Operation: Peach Pit."

He smiled in satisfaction as he leapt out from beside the coat closet, immediately ducking into the cubby room. He flicked on the lights swung his pretend AK-47 (he wasn't sure exactly what an AK-47 _did_, but he knew it was a gun and he liked the way it sounded) in front of him, jabbing it at a few coats to make sure no one was hiding and ready to pounce.

When it seemed that no one was going to attack him anytime soon, he relaxed and headed to Stella's cubby, where she had taped a giant name card which read, "Stella's Cubby – Do Not Touch!" in pink glitter pen. Joe reached forward and snatched her purse from the cubby in one swift motion, half expecting sirens and alarms to go off. He breathed a sigh of relief as the room stayed blissfully silent, and he slowly unzipped the purse. He placed it on the floor and then headed to his cubby, where his Superman lunchbox awaited patiently. Popping open the box and sifting through the contents, he located what he had been looking for—his Snack Pack cup of plum pudding. He peeled the plastic cup open carefully, plugging his nose as a strong scent of sickly sweet fruit filled the room.

"This is Agent 007," he whispered nasally into his palm, "it seems I have encountered another enemy—the poisonous scent of plum pudding. If I don't make it out alive, someone tell my mom I love her."

He nodded bravely to himself as he carefully removed his fingers from his nose and took a deep breath. He made a face before dashing over to Stella's purse, opening it up as wide as it could go.

"Take that, Stella!" he cried as he flipped the cup of pudding over, emptying its contents into the purse. "And that, and _that_!" He smiled victoriously at the purple mess. _That_ would teach Stella to never mess with Joe.

Plus, he thought to himself, this plum pudding smelled absolutely disgusting. Snack Pack pudding was usually pretty delicious—but that was when it came in predictable flavors, like chocolate. This was something else entirely. He winced as he got another whiff of it, cringing and tossing the purse back into its cubby.

Mission accomplished! He ran out of the cubby room just as everyone else was filing back into the classroom. His plan had worked! And it was brilliant, if he was being honest with himself. This way, he got rid of the gross pudding _and_ he made Stella angry. It was like that morbid saying that adults always used—what was it again? Oh yeah—like killing two birds with one stone.

--

By the end of the day, Joe realized he had managed to behave himself, and the teacher hadn't had to scold him again. In the midst of all this good behavior, he had nearly forgotten all about his successful mission. He was feeling rather proud and sitting smugly in his seat as the rest of the class headed to their cubbies when he heard the scream.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!"

Joe nearly jumped ten feet out of his seat trying to duck and cover before he realized that the scream belonged to Stella. His eyes brightened as he ran to the back of the classroom, eager to see her reaction. He would finally get justice! Ah, revenge was sweet!

He pushed his way through the crowd that had gathered in the cubby room, ignoring the buzz of the rest of the students.

"Who did this?!" Stella was yelling, "Who would _do_ such a thing?!"

Joe grinned as he approached the cubbies, ready to confess for his "crime". More like a good deed for society, in his opinion—everyone would congratulate him for his spectacular mission, and Stella would never mess with him again! He was stepping out from behind Macy, his mouth wide open and ready to boast when he caught a glimpse of her.

She sat sprawled on the carpet, clutching her purse with a pained expression. Her face was red for the third time that day, and her hair was disheveled from what Joe assumed was the result of this traumatic experience. Suddenly she looked up and caught Joe's eye, and he felt a sharp pain in his stomach. He swallowed dryly as he gaped at her, his palms starting to sweat. Was she…_crying_? That was _not_ part of the mission!

"Stella?" he asked meekly, approaching her.

"Who would _do_ this?" she wailed again, "Joe, you _know_ how much I loved this purse. Why would anybody do this to me?"

The room suddenly felt very small to Joe, and he started to stutter a little, panicking. "I-I…who-I don't—"

At that moment, Carl "The Shoe" Shuester entered, charging haphazardly inside the room. "What is all this hold up?" he yelped, shoving through a crowd of people and falling at Joe's feet.

"Oh, hey J—" he stopped mid-sentence, his eyes falling on Stella. A grin slid onto his face as he gazed dreamily up at her, sighing happily. "Hey St-Stell—"

Stella's eyes narrowed suspiciously as she rose to her feet, pointing a finger at Carl.

"DID YOU DO THIS!?" she shrieked, cutting his stammers off.

Carl paused, still staring at her goofily. "Do what? Of course, Stella, I would do _anything_ for—"

"You—You…JERK!" she screamed, whacking him in the head with her now ruined purse. Carl was broken out of his trance as he jumped back with a squeal, dodging her blows.

"Stella?! Wh-what did I do?"

Stella stopped her rampage for a moment, causing Carl to gasp in relief. Then, unexpectedly, Stella's expression grew even fiercer as she took a step closer to Carl. She smiled briefly, but it wasn't quite the most kind-hearted of smiles—in fact, Joe realized with a start, Stella looked just like those wicked witches in the storybooks his mom used to read him. She raised the purse up in the air, and if Joe hadn't been so terrified of her, he probably would have yelled, "Watch out!" But as it went, Joe _was_ terrified of her—and so his lips remained sealed as he watched Stella chase Carl out of the room, yelling, "YOU KNOW WHAT YOU DID, YOU JERK!"

--

Joe entered school the next day a little bit unsteady on his feet. His mother waved at him from across the street again, this time calling, "Just tell her you're sorry, she'll understand!"

He bit his lip uncertainly, nodding back at his mother as the heavy weight of the brand new horrendously pink purse in his backpack reminded him of his new mission. Stupid Stella, he thought, she just _had_ to go and cry so I felt bad… He considered waiting until his mom's car pulled out of the parking lot and then running away so he wouldn't have to face Stella and own up to what he did—but he realized he had to do it _eventually_. He would just get it over with now.

He marched into the classroom with his head held high, one foot in front of the other—and then he saw her sitting demurely in her seat, and couldn't think of what he was supposed to do next.

I can't do this, he panicked, she'll eat me alive! She'll slice me open and stuff me with plum pudding and leave me to rot in the playground, and then she'll keep the purse to herself and tell everyone that it was an "accident" and—

"Joe?"

Uh-oh.

"Are you okay? You look sort of…pale. And you were mumbling to yourself—something about an accident?"

He couldn't breathe.

"Joe?"

He stepped backward involuntarily, breaking out into a sweat. He unzipped his backpack as fast as his shaking fingers could allow, yanking out the pink monstrosity with his clammy hands. He thrust it at her, clenching his fists in preparation for his death.

"Wh-what's this? Joe? Di-did you…?"

Such a shame, really. His career as a secret agent had been good while it lasted—how would his teacher explain to his parents that he had been brutally murdered by another student? A _girl_, at that! He shuddered. He was glad he wouldn't be alive to suffer the jokes _that_ would start up—Jason would really get a kick out of it.

Stella stepped forward and he flinched, trying to stay rooted in his spot. It would be better if he just let her do it in one blow—nice and quick. He braced himself, willing his hands to stop shaking. She took another step forward as Joe closed his eyes, seeing her arms flail out towards him. This was it, this was goodbye, this was the last—

Wait. He opened his eyes cautiously as he felt Stella's arms wrap snugly around him, shrieking happily in his ear. Was she _hugging _him?

"Oh, Joe! I can't believe you got me a new Penelope Peach Pit Purse! I know it must have upset you to see me crying yesterday, but this is so sweet! I can't believe—wow, Joe! You're the best friend ever!"

He blinked. Oh, right. He hadn't told her that he was the one to ruin her first purse. He sighed as he wrapped his arms tentatively around Stella, thinking that he would at least die with a cute girl in his arms—wait. Cute? Stella? No. Dangerous, yes. Scary, absolutely. Cute? _No way_. He shook his head rapidly, wondering if all these thoughts of death had made him delusional. Well, he might as well finish this, while he was still out of his mind.

"Listen Stella, I didn't tell you this, but uh, I'm really sorry and uh, well I want you to know that I was the one who—"

"—oh, but I'm so happy!" she interrupted, "This purse is even pinker than the last one, Joe! Wow, but where did you find it? And oh, thank you! I take back all the mean things I ever said about you! This _almost_ makes me happy enough too—well, no. No, I'll _never_ forgive the Shoe. Ever. And if he ever steps within two FEET of me, I will personally attack him and rip him apart and kick him where it hurts over and over and over again, and…and make him wish he had never been born!"

Joe gulped. On the other hand…maybe he'd wait just a _little_ bit longer to tell Stella that he was the one that did it. He looked down at his best friend, who was currently shooting daggers with her eyes in Carl's direction. At that moment, she looked up at him and beamed. All of a sudden, a strange sensation that sort of felt like his heart was bursting ran through him, and he had a feeling it didn't have anything to do with the idea of his death. He couldn't help but smile when she wrapped her arms around him a little bit tighter, and Joe decided that maybe she was a _little_ bit cute.

Okay, so maybe he would wait a _lot_ longer to tell her that he ruined her purse.

"Thank you, Joe," Stella whispered. He grinned back carefully, his heart doing funny flip-flops.

Or, you know, maybe he just wouldn't tell her at all.

--

**reviews, please? ;)**


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